


Fresh Cream

by Inactive_Account



Series: Shouta Lance [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blindfolds, Come Eating, First Time Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Shouta, Underage - Adult/Minor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 12:09:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14378346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inactive_Account/pseuds/Inactive_Account
Summary: Shiro works at an ice-cream van.He teaches four-year old Lance to get fresh cream straight from the hose.





	Fresh Cream

Lance was beautiful.

He danced about the playground with total innocence. The blue jeans rode low on four-year old hips, while his green jacket was clearly an old hand-me-down, and his t-shirt was so tight that it emphasised every curve and line on his small frame. He bore a bright smile that brought crinkles to the corners of his eyes, as brown cheeks flushed darker in the sunlight and from his sheer excitement. Shiro leaned against the ice-cream counter.

The sun was bright and high that afternoon. Shiro must have sold five-times the amount of ice-cream, to the extent he ran out of the favourite brands, and – taking a break with a sign on the windows – he contented himself with watching his friends and their children. Lance was such a social child . . . one minute he would picnic with Hunk, another minute would lead to reading with Katie, and sometimes he would kick a ball around with Keith . . . the other children would come and go, but Coran always made sure to socialise Lance for long periods.

It was all good by Shiro, as it was difficult to work and watch Keith at the same time, and so these play-dates enabled him to better multi-task, as Coran or Samuel would always watch the children while they played. Coran was busy on his phone, while he waved at Lance who waved back with a big energetic gesture, and soon ended the call only to sprint fast over the sand towards Shiro, as he panted for breath outside the van and asked:

“Could you watch Lance for me, lad?”

Coran clapped two gloved hands before him. The age lines on his face deepened with his scrunched up expression, borne from nervous embarrassment, and his ginger hair rustled with the light breeze that blew across the playground. Shiro licked at his lips and glanced over to Lance, who sought to outdo Keith with various football tricks, and – with determined faces – both boys moved with speed and dexterity that he almost envied. Shiro adjusted his growing cock from behind the counter. He gave it a squeeze for good measure.

“Sure,” chirped Shiro. “How long will you be?”

“Just an hour or two?” Coran winced and scratched his cheek. “Allura had a wee emergency at work, so I have to pick her up and deal with some of the damage, but – I _swear_ – our Lance is the best-behaved boy you could ever meet! Do you mind, Shiro?”

“No, it’s fine! Just bring him over. I’ll get him an ice-cream.”

“I owe you, Shiro. Thank you!”

Shiro smiled as Coran dashed across the playground. Coran knelt down to whisper a few words to Keith, who he kissed on his head with a gentle touch, before he whisked Lance into his arms and swung him around with lots of laughter and many kisses. There were visible tears in Coran’s eyes, as he reluctantly walked the two boys towards the van, and – apologising over and over for leaving his boy – he slid Lance into the van.

Keith opened the front door and slid into the driver’s seat. He would remain there out of sight, where he would read his books with ear-plugs to block out all other sounds, and – always so perfectly behaved – Shiro sometimes dreamed about being able to make him scream, as he let loose the tightly wound boy with writhing pleasure. It was lucky in some respects, as Keith would never even notice his friend being touched and appreciated in the back of the van, which meant Lance was his . . . _all his_. . . Shiro grew painfully erect.

Coran leaned through the window, as he reached down to pat Lance’s head. The small boy could not be seen from outside, although he would not be seen at all once Shiro slid closed the mirrored windows covered with stickers advertising his wares, and that meant – in the cold work area – Lance was under his total control. Shiro’s erection tented his shorts and throbbed beneath the fabric of his trousers, as he held back a desperate groan.

“Be good for Uncle Shiro,” pleaded Coran.

“I’m always good, Papa,” chirped Lance. “Can – Can I have ice cream? I want sprinkles and sauce and a cone and a chocolate stick and – and – and -!” Lance jumped on his heels with hands fisted before him. “I could have some ice cream, please? I’ll be good!”

“Well, I _suppose_ this is an unusual situation. If it’s okay with Shiro -?”

“Sure, it’s on the house,” said Shiro. “You just take care, Coran.”

“Wonderful! I’ll see you soon, sweetie, okay?”

Lance threw his hands up, as he yipped with glee, and puckered his lips for a kiss. Coran laughed and kissed his gloved fingers, before he reached down and pressed them to Lance’s forehead and whispered ‘I love you’, only for Lance to jump again and swirl around with a hummed tune from his favourite cartoon. The paternal love was almost palpable, as Coran struggled to leave his only child, but soon – as Shiro hung his hand over the window, ready to slam it shut – Coran let out a shuddered sigh and saluted them both.

“Bye, Papa,” chirped Lance.

“See you soon, son.”

_One, two, three . . ._

Shiro slammed the window shut, as Coran turned his back to them. The inside of the van was pretty cold and Lance shivered, while tiny nipples pebbled and stood erect beneath his shirt, and Shiro – weeping pre-come from his cock – wished he could suckle and lick them until Lance was crying with overwhelming arousal. He carefully sat on a stool and poured soft ice-cream into a crunchy cone, while sprinkling rainbow-sprinkles over the top for Lance.

“Do you want some cream, Lance?”

He placed the cone in a holder on the counter. It was out of reach for tiny hands, but he spun around and spread his legs as wide as possible, until Lance ran between and placed his hands innocently on Shiro’s thighs, oblivious to the shudders of warmth that ran through him. Lance bore such perfect features, as if chiselled by the gods themselves, and Shiro reached over to a draw and pulled out a long silk scarf, which he ran through his fingers with a low hum. He watched as Lance licked his lips and stared past him to the ice cream.

“I want cream,” chirped Lance. “I want lots of cream!”

“Okay, well, this is a _special_ cream,” said Shiro. “It’s also a _top-secret_ process, which only the smartest grown-ups get to know, and that makes _you_ special, too, Lance! I’m going to put this scarf over your eyes. It’s because it’s secret, so you can’t tell people how the cream is made, but you get to be the _first_ _person_ to taste it! It’s that special.”

“I get to be the first person to eat the cream?”

“You sure do, little man! Do you know the best part? The cream comes out of a special hose, which you have to pump to make come out . . . like chocolate icing from an icing bag. I’ll make sure it _all_ goes on your ice cream when the time comes, alright? You’ll love it.”

“So I get lots of fresh cream? I get to pump it out, too?”

“You sure do, my beautiful angel.”

Lance giggled and bounced once again. He closed his eyes and reached for the scarf, clearly excited to try the fresh cream promised, and Shiro – laughing at his naivety and innocence – wrapped the scarf around his eyes and tied it too tight for a boy to undo. Shiro tested his vision by flipping Lance off, followed by spitting on his ice-cream, but neither gained any reaction from the bouncing baby of four years, and Shiro laughed again.

“Let me prepare the hose,” teased Shiro.

He flipped up his apron and unbuttoned his trousers. The lack of underwear allowed his erection to spring upward, where the mushroomed head struck his abdomen and left a stain of pre-come on his black shirt, and – smirking at the six inches and huge girth – he reached a hand down to squeeze his balls and leaned back on his stool. He knew he would not last long, especially as the pre-come ran down the vein in small streams, where the clear liquid dribbled over his balls and coated his coarse pubic hair. Shiro mewled and reached for Lance.

Lance stood obediently between his legs. It took hardly any effort for Shiro to guide his small hands over his big cock, and he bit his lip and swallowed hard at the sensation, as every muscle in his body tensed and a sweat broke over his flesh. He panted for breath and ran a hand through Lance’s hair, stroking loose patterns while Lance traced his fingers over the soft skin and furrowed his brow. Lance obviously expected something different.

“It feels weird,” muttered Lance.

“It’s a new hose,” gasped Shiro. “It’s special, just for grown-ups.”

“It feels soft like my stuffed bear, but over something hard!” Lance squeezed a little and leaned forward. “Is it like an icing tube? Can I lick the end? Papa lets me lick the end of the icing tube when Mama isn’t looking, as the icing tastes so yummy!”

Shiro swallowed back a swear. He gently took Lance’s hands and showed him how to milk his cock for all it was worth, including dipping a finger into the slit and twisting just a little on every upward stroke, while he moved his fingers up and down like playing scales, and – after a few minutes, with Lance _begging_ for a taste – he coaxed one hand down to his balls, where Lance quickly got the hang of rolling them and squeezing them. Shiro glanced to Keith in the rear-view mirror, but Keith was totally immersed in his book.

“Yeah,” said Shiro. “Lick that dick, bitch.”

“That’s a bad word,” giggled Lance.

A warm tongue ran out.

It swept against the red head of Shiro’s cock. The tip dipped into the slit, while the rough pad ran over the sensitive underside, and Lance continued to knead his balls and jerk his dick, while moaning ‘yummy’ each time he licked at the pre-come that streamed all the more. Shiro tightened his hold in Lance’s hair, as he reached for the ice-cream cone and prepared to yank it into place. Lance flicked his tongue rapidly, before he moved his lips over the head and started to suckle with long swipes of his tongue. Shiro cried out.

“It tastes salty, like salted taffies,” said Lance.

“You’re a natural, bitch. Just don’t use your teeth, okay?”

“I can do that! You sound funny, though.”

Lance giggled and returned to suckling the head of the cock. He would sometimes squeeze too hard, forcing Shiro to lighting slap his hand and explain again to keep it light, and soon he was using the perfect amount of force, while slurping on his cock-head like a whore. The pleasure was growing more and more intense, as Shiro writhed and bucked his hips, and soon his stomach muscles were clenching and his toes were curling, while he licked at his lips and eyes rolled back into his head. He was seeing white and his heart pounded in his ears.

“I want more,” moaned Lance. “I want your cream.”

“Fucking bitch! Take it. _Take it all_!”

Shiro jerked back Lance’s head. He rammed the ice-cream cone between them, as he finally reached his peak . . . _absolute pleasure, intense orgasm_. . . it was a bliss unlike every other, as his nerves turned aflame and his heart stopped in his chest, and – arching his back until it broke – he pumped shots of hot come right over the sprinkles and ice-cream. It landed in large ropes and painted the surface an obvious white, before it dribbled down from his cock.

Shiro barely had time to jerk the ice-cream out of Lance’s way. The four-year old moaned and went immediately back to the cock-head, where he gulped down the last few dribbles and splatters of come, until it painted his lips a beautiful pearly white, and Shiro – laughing hard – quickly tucked himself away and flipped down his apron, even as he panted for breath and contently appreciated his afterglow. He couldn’t wait to get home and cuddle with Keith, maybe frotting against him while he slept and passing the come off as a ‘night-time accident’.

He gently worked off Lance’s blindfold. The boy blinked as his eyes adjusted, even as he looked around in confusion for the hose, but – easily distracted – Shiro shoved the come-covered cone before him. Lance squealed in delight and started to lick at the ice-cream, as he guzzled down gushes of come with no realisation it was secretly something much more, and that very realisation turned Shiro on harder than he could ever express.

“That’s it,” whispered Shiro. “Eat your man-milk.”

Lance moaned and continued to lick at the ice-cream. He would sometimes throw back his head and expose his long throat, while gently touching the skin and visibly swallowing hard, and Shiro – despite his usually long refractory period – was enough to hammer nails. Lance licked and nibbled at the cream, while giving large smiles and groans and giggles, and Shiro mentally made a note to arrange a sleepover . . . maybe he could finger Lance while he slept, an ‘internal cleaning’ . . . he squeezed at his cock, as Lance asked in a childlike voice:

“Can I have more, Uncle Shiro?”

“As much as you like, love.”


End file.
